permanent transcription
she could mean
everything to me
for a little while
aproval just means that people are listening. ironicly, disaproval means the same thing, to a degree. right? you have to experience to disaprove? at least you can say that you've infultrated their consciousness.
i believe that if i exist in the consciousness of another, my mission is accomplished. it's not so much if they like me or not. i just like to know that they're thinking about me.
that means i've changed them somehow.
my existance is defined by the change i make, the amplitude of my wake. aproval is just one interpritation of what we're all truly seeking. it's not exactly what we're seeing. i think we want to be accessable and familiar.
this, of course, is perpindicular to the concept of being an instrument of change. change is unfamiliar.
so it's a ballance, i guess. a challenge. ya dig? i'm stoned and i'm pretty tired. i should go to sleep.
you might say that there is immortality in a memory. i don't know.
joe and i went to a bar. at some point, i got in a metaphorical conversation with a stranger about sex and condoms.
"i hate my penis," he said. "it's a burdon."
"i love my penis. it's a blessing," i said.
"i like to to ride my bycicle," he said. "metaphoricly speaking."
"yeah. and you wouldn't be able to ride that bike so well without a penis, would you?"
"no. i wear enough spandex that the penis has nothing to do with me and riding my bycicle."
i shit you not, i think this guy was sick.
"but you need that spendex. or you'll chafe."
"nonsense! there is no direct cause and effect. it's just a probability. i've been riding bikes for years without spandex. no problems, here!"
"i once rode a bike ten hours a day from here to boston..." he started telling me.
"holly shit, man!" i whispered to joe. "i think this guy is trying to tell us that he fucks truck drivers."
the stranger admired my genius. aparently, we just got real deep and shit. whatever. i was a little drunk and a little stoned and feeling fairly anti-social.
i really just wanted to listen to neil young because i love the way music sounds when i'm stoned. minus the bear is good stuff to listen to. marty and i listened to that stuff today. just tripped the fuck out.
but that stuff is just waste.
sometimes i think social interaction is a waste because i can exist without it. i'd just rather not live without it.
i am quite possibly one of the most rediculous people i know. today at work, i forgot to put the tickets on the cars after i park them. the tickets just make it easier to tell which car belongs in our lot and which one doesn't. also, just incase our records get fucked up and we can't remember where we parked a certain car, we can match the number on the ticket. bullshit, really. i forgot to do it and mosha, my supervisor, had me go back and do it.
i was licking the tickets and sticking them on the windows. i like to lick things.
"are you licking the tickets?" she asked, laughing.
"yeah," i said.
"you're joking," she responded in disgust.
"what do you want to lick one?" and i laughed.
she says it's cute how i crack myself up. yeah. i get that a lot.
when i parked the big ass truck, she asked if i hit anything.
"no," i respond. "but i can't say i wasn't tempted."
i guess that's my humor at work. i'm quiet and akward. everybody notices me. everybody remembers me. i am the weird guy, even when i try to fit in. actualy, the more i try to fit in, the more i stand out. it's a blessing and a curse.
people remember me. i'm immortal in their memory. i guess i accomplish my mission.
everything to me
for a little while
aproval just means that people are listening. ironicly, disaproval means the same thing, to a degree. right? you have to experience to disaprove? at least you can say that you've infultrated their consciousness.
i believe that if i exist in the consciousness of another, my mission is accomplished. it's not so much if they like me or not. i just like to know that they're thinking about me.
that means i've changed them somehow.
my existance is defined by the change i make, the amplitude of my wake. aproval is just one interpritation of what we're all truly seeking. it's not exactly what we're seeing. i think we want to be accessable and familiar.
this, of course, is perpindicular to the concept of being an instrument of change. change is unfamiliar.
so it's a ballance, i guess. a challenge. ya dig? i'm stoned and i'm pretty tired. i should go to sleep.
you might say that there is immortality in a memory. i don't know.
joe and i went to a bar. at some point, i got in a metaphorical conversation with a stranger about sex and condoms.
"i hate my penis," he said. "it's a burdon."
"i love my penis. it's a blessing," i said.
"i like to to ride my bycicle," he said. "metaphoricly speaking."
"yeah. and you wouldn't be able to ride that bike so well without a penis, would you?"
"no. i wear enough spandex that the penis has nothing to do with me and riding my bycicle."
i shit you not, i think this guy was sick.
"but you need that spendex. or you'll chafe."
"nonsense! there is no direct cause and effect. it's just a probability. i've been riding bikes for years without spandex. no problems, here!"
"i once rode a bike ten hours a day from here to boston..." he started telling me.
"holly shit, man!" i whispered to joe. "i think this guy is trying to tell us that he fucks truck drivers."
the stranger admired my genius. aparently, we just got real deep and shit. whatever. i was a little drunk and a little stoned and feeling fairly anti-social.
i really just wanted to listen to neil young because i love the way music sounds when i'm stoned. minus the bear is good stuff to listen to. marty and i listened to that stuff today. just tripped the fuck out.
but that stuff is just waste.
sometimes i think social interaction is a waste because i can exist without it. i'd just rather not live without it.
i am quite possibly one of the most rediculous people i know. today at work, i forgot to put the tickets on the cars after i park them. the tickets just make it easier to tell which car belongs in our lot and which one doesn't. also, just incase our records get fucked up and we can't remember where we parked a certain car, we can match the number on the ticket. bullshit, really. i forgot to do it and mosha, my supervisor, had me go back and do it.
i was licking the tickets and sticking them on the windows. i like to lick things.
"are you licking the tickets?" she asked, laughing.
"yeah," i said.
"you're joking," she responded in disgust.
"what do you want to lick one?" and i laughed.
she says it's cute how i crack myself up. yeah. i get that a lot.
when i parked the big ass truck, she asked if i hit anything.
"no," i respond. "but i can't say i wasn't tempted."
i guess that's my humor at work. i'm quiet and akward. everybody notices me. everybody remembers me. i am the weird guy, even when i try to fit in. actualy, the more i try to fit in, the more i stand out. it's a blessing and a curse.
people remember me. i'm immortal in their memory. i guess i accomplish my mission.